The Will of Admiral Christopher McKinnies Pike
by Mezo Phane
Summary: What it says on the tin.
1. The Will

**A.N. 1: So, I am procrastinating writing Chapter 11 of my other fic, Gray Guardian, by writing yet more Dadmiral Pike and Triumvirate, with a whole heaping helping of hurt/comfort. I can't stop with these four, apparently. Guest starring That Admiral played by Tyler Perry, people from ST: Discovery, ;) and multiple name drops from across ST canon. Kudos if you get them.**

**Disclaimer: I own this not.**

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"Thank you very much for being here today," the blue-skinned Andorian woman said to the room at large, as she looked at all of them in turn. It was kind of a surprise when he, Jim Kirk, received an invitation from Anaya Shran of the law firm of Shran, Kim, O'Brien, and Troi. He was apparently invited to the will reading of Vice Admiral Christopher McKinnies Pike, along with Bones and Spock who he later commed, only to find that they too, were invited.

They were only having the will reading now, because there was an explicit instruction that all parties mentioned in the will, (unless extenuating circumstances presented themselves, such as death) had to be physically present at the reading, and until three months ago, Jim was literally unable to move and was confined in Starfleet Medical, and before that, he, Bones and Spock were on the wild goose chase that Marcus had sent the _Enterprise_ on.

The three of them sat down in the last chairs in the room, before the large, curved glass desk, along with Admiral Barnett, who looked very Admiral-y in his dress uniform, and two women he recognized, but could not put the names to for the life of him. One was dark skinned, her black hair cropped short, dressed in a dark blue blouse and black slacks, the other, fair skinned, rich brown hair swept into a bun at the base of her neck, dressed in the Starfleet dress uniform, Captain's rank insignia on her shoulders. It made Jim glad he had chosen to wear one of the few button-down shirts he owned along with a light, gray sweater. Bones was dressed similarly, and Spock was wearing his usual off-duty Vulcan robes.

"I suppose you all know why you're here, so we'll just begin," Ms. Shran said, pulling out a device and setting it on the table. She pushed a button, and a hologram appeared above the device of Pike, who appeared to be sitting at a desk.

"Is this thing on? Dammit, I really hate these," he murmured, tapping at something adjacent to the screen he had recorded this on, provoking a quiet chuckle from Jim, Bones, and Admiral Barnett. They knew his dislike of holograms well.

"Okay. I think that's good. You all obviously know who I am, but since Starfleet has a stupid protocol for how these things go, I'm going to follow it. I, Vice Admiral Christopher McKinnies Pike, of Sound Mind and Reasonably Sound Body," he chuckled, which made everyone chuckle along with him, "Declare This My Last Will and Testament. Just so you know, this is stream of consciousness, so don't feel bad about the order you all go in.

To my good friend, Professor Michael Burnham —" this made Jim look at the dark-skinned woman beside him. He now remembered her, she was a research professor at Starfleet Academy, her field being quantum physics. He had met her at one of his first Kelvin Memorial Day's, and had gotten a chance to speak with her for a while, discussing her most recent theory. She was quite young for a professor, but genius had no age limit, Jim thought.

"— I leave my antique copy of Carl Sagan's Cosmos. Thank you very much, Michael, for being my friend, and not letting my failing grade in astrophysics get in the way, as well as for encouraging me to take up reading about astrophysics again. I actually kind of enjoy it now, because of you." Jim could see a tearful smile on Professor Burnham's face at Pike's words.

"Admiral Richard Barnett, my buddy! To you, I leave that bottle of Macallan Estate Reserve I know you've always had your eye on. Don't drink it all in one sitting, you can't miss me that much." Admiral Barnett actually sniffled slightly.

"Commander Spock. To you, I leave my portable gramophone, and my copy of John Coltrane's Giant Steps. I still remember that day in my office, once you had been assigned as my new First Officer, after Number One left. You didn't understand the music I had playing, this very same album, and I spent two hours teaching you about ancient Earth alternative classical music, or, as they callled it back then, jazz. I want you to have the album which sparked your… appreciation of the genre."

"You like jazz, Spock?" Jim whispered to his First Officer on his right side.

"I did not originally appreciate it, but Admiral Pike showed me the intriguing movements of the genre's music. It… was nothing like the music I had before been exposed to. The pieces of music made for fascinating study," Spock whispered back.

"Lieutenant Commander Doctor Leonard McCoy, to you, I leave my bottle of Macallan 12 Fine Oak Triple Cask. It's not Richard's Estate Reserve, but it's still damn fine whisky. You're an excellent doctor, McCoy. Thank you for helping me get back on my feet, literally, after the _Narada_." Jim heard a sigh come from Bones.

"To Number One, Captain Una — forgive me for using that, I know you hate your name, but, again, stupid protocol. I leave you the contents of the right topmost drawer of my dresser in my home in Mojave." Now Jim knew who the other woman was. Captain Una, of the _USS Yorktown_. She was a Legend, even as a First Officer — Pike's First Officer, with a capital L, along with Philippa Georgiou and a few other women. Jim wondered what exactly Pike left her, as he was pretty vague about it, where he had been quite detailed with the others.

"And last, but not least, to Captain James Kirk." Jim sat up straighter in his chair. "To you, Jim, I leave the entire contents of all credit accounts in my name, which I would like you to set up as the George D. Kirk Scholarship, so other 'genius-level repeat offenders' can have the same chance as you. I'd like for you, Spock, and Doctor McCoy to oversee the scholarship, instead of the Academy, to make sure it goes to someone who really deserves it. I also leave you my fleet ring, my house in Mojave, its accompanying land, all the belongings therein which I have not willed to those preceding you, and my horse, Tango Jr." Jim's mouth was already doing a credible impression of a fish at the first part of Pike's statement, but then the second part made his jaw completely drop.

"I know you… ah, damnit. I know you have your place in San Francisco, and the farm in Riverside, but uh, I think you'd like my place. It's quiet, and you can think there. Get away from your rank. You know what I mean. You can sell it if you want to, and give Tango Jr. another good home, but I… hope you don't. I don't have kids, and I don't think I'll ever get married —" Here, Pike paused and sighed, looking away from the hologram pickup, a sad and regretful look in his eyes, before continuing, "— anyway, you're the only person I could even imagine giving my family's ranch and my horse to. That's a really bad way of saying you're the closest thing I ever had to a son, and… I hope you're still in the room and haven't left because I've overstepped. I tried to do right by you, Jim, and I wish I could've been there for you sooner. I'm so proud of you, and what you've accomplished, and I know you're only going to achieve better things. I… I love you, son." At this point, tears welled up in Jim's eyes, tears which he refused to let fall, at least until the end of Pike's will. Now, he felt even more ashamed at his behavior the last day of Pike's life. How the man could ever think he was overstepping by saying he thought of Jim as his son, he didn't know. To be honest, Jim had long since thought of him as the father he never had.

"Well, I hope that you're all okay, and I am so grateful for all of you. I'm sorry that I left you behind, but if all of you could do me one last favor. Remember me when you can. I'd like that. Til I see you guys again." His hand reached out towards the screen and then the hologram disappeared.

It was a blur as Ms. Shran produced boxes of various sizes containing the items Pike had left them, and Professor Burnham and Admiral Barnett were the first to leave, holding tight to the nondescript boxes. It took a few seconds for Jim to register that Ms. Shran was talking to him. "Yes, I'm sorry?"

"I was saying, Captain Kirk, that here is the paperwork to begin the process of starting the scholarship, the access codes for the accounts, Admiral Pike's fleet ring, the title deed and keys to the property in Mojave, along with the address."

"Thank — thank you, Ms. Shran," Jim said, repeating the first word of his sentence, after his voice cracked. "Could I make a slight change to the will? Nothing big, I'd just like to add Admiral Pike's name to the scholarship, if that's all right with both of you guys," he said turning to Spock and Bones.

At their nods, Ms. Shran said, "That can certainly be accommodated, Captain Kirk."

Turning to Captain Una, Jim then said, "And, Captain, Ma'am, whenever you'd like to go, I'd be more than willing to take you to Admiral Pike's house for your inheritance."

In a softer voice than Jim was expecting, she replied, "Thank you for your offer, Captain, perhaps next week, at one-thirty in the afternoon?"

"Certainly, Captain, um, at The Embarcadero?"

"I will see you then." She gracefully stood and left.

Jim, Spock, and Bones took this as their cue to leave, Jim taking the PADD, the access card for the accounts, the ring box, the old fashioned keys, and the thick cardstock bearing the address for Pike's, now Jim's house, while Spock and Bones took their boxes. They thanked Ms. Shran and were about to walk out when she called, "Captain Kirk, I almost forgot!"

"Yes, Ms. Shran?"

"The night Admiral Pike died, he had something sent to my office, for you. Here."

She held out an envelope, which he took, and murmuring his thanks again, left.

Spock and Bones were waiting for him outside her office, and Bones was the first one to say, "What's that, Jim?"

"It's an envelope Pike sent to her office, that night," he said, knowing they would know what night he was referring to.

"You gonna open it? You don't have to now, but…"

"Um, yeah. Downstairs, maybe we could find a place to sit."

"You don't have to share it with us, Jim."

"No, no. I want to." He had a feeling he would need his two best friends with him when he read whatever was in the envelope.

They made their way to a secluded bench overlooking the bay, and once they got settled, Jim picked up the envelope, and with shaking hands, took out the sheet of paper. Irrationally, he braced himself for another scolding from beyond the grave, despite knowing that Pike wouldn't do that to him.

It was Pike's stationery, from his office, with the Starfleet delta on the left, and the words V. Adm. Christopher M. Pike printed next to it. It had only seven words written in Pike's spidery handwriting. It said, "I'm still proud of you, son. Chris."

At this, Jim clutched the sheet of paper to his chest and all the emotion he had managed to tamp down in Ms. Shran's office came back tenfold, as tears and sobs wracked him. He felt the comforting hands of his best friends upon his shoulder, grounding him, as he purged all the emotions he had been holding onto for months. All his anger at himself, his fear that Pike had died disappointed in him, and his grief for the man whom he thought of as a father.

"Thank you," he muttered, once his emotions had subsided, to Spock and Bones.

"It is not a problem, Jim," Spock replied, understanding completely.

"Yeah, kid, we're here for you," Bones said sympathetically.

They sat there quietly for a while, until the sun was beginning to hang low in the sky, at which point they stood, gathering their belongings, and began to make their way to Jim's condo by unspoken agreement for an early dinner.

Jim lingered for a short while, letting Spock and Bones go a little ways before him, as he recalled the night of Pike's death. The bar. That evil smile as he gleefully wrecked Jim's prospects of evening companionship. Him saying that if anyone deserved a second chance, it was Jim Kirk. His hand on his shoulder as he reassured Jim that everything was going to be ok.

And so, remembering Christopher Pike as he had requested, James Tiberius Kirk whispered to the wind, "Thanks… Dad," before jogging to catch up with Spock and Bones.

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A.N.2: Here, I have included Number One and Michael Burnham from ST: Discovery, but I changed Michael's story. Here, in the AOS, she was raised by her parents who didn't die, ('cause why not) I made her a research professor of quantum physics, (which she studied at the VSA in the original timeline) at Starfleet Academy, and made her be the reason Pike later appreciated astrophysics, (since I headcanon they met and became friends while Pike was dirtside in San Francisco on various shore leaves) which he really did get a failing grade on, as you'll learn in the first episode of ST: Discovery's second season, because I'm assuming that even in the AOS timeline, that astrophysics grade, along with his hatred of holograms wouldn't change. 😂

And if you want to find out just what Pike left Number One, you'll have to just click that button for the next chapter. ;)


	2. What He Gave Number One

**A.N.1: This is quite an emotional chapter, just so you know. Kudos to those who spot the ST: Discovery name drop! A shoutout to the author LJC who just killed and inspired me with her fics. LJC, if you're reading this, thank you so much. I think you'll know which one of your fics inspired me with this one. I hope you don't mind!**

**Disclaimer: Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. And that is that I do not own this.**

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The day was cloudy and temperate, as Number One strode measuredly to The Embarcadero to meet with James Kirk. She inhaled at an even pace, despite the unease that settled over her heart, making it beat eccentrically. This would be the first time she would set foot in Chris' house after his passing.

She remembered the day he died. He had commed her, the _Yorktown_ luckily docked at a starbase for resupply, which meant that the connection was much stronger than usual, and allowed for a video comm where she would usually have to settle for an audio comm.

"I just… I can't believe that kid, One. He manages to push every single limit I…" he sighed, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair and rested his head on his arms. "I'm afraid he's going to get himself killed one day. I'm just imagining the notice in my inbox, and it kills me."

"Chris, these are normal fears for every parent — and don't argue with me, I know you love him like a son."

He didn't contradict her, saying more with his silence than any words could, continuing, "Marcus wants his head, you know. Stripped of rank and court martialed. I can't let that happen. I don't care if they knock me back to Captain or worse, I never wanted to be part of the Admiralty anyway." His voice, which had been muffled by his sleeves, regained clarity as he lifted his head from his arms.

Number One could see the steely determination in his eyes which overshadowed the minute signs of exhaustion she had become familiar with as his First. She was quite fluent in Chrisopher Pike after all their years as a command team. It made for a jarring transition when he handed the Captaincy of the _Yorktown_ to her. There were still times, even four, almost five years after, where she still found herself walking into her ready room, fully expecting to see him on the other side of the desk. Shaking herself from her introspection, she continued, "What do you intend to do?"

"I don't know. Probably something stupid."

"Don't be too stupid, I'm not there to save you."

He grinned boyishly, which sent a little flutter through her that she expertly hid, having had years of experience in controlling herself around him. "I'll try. I'll talk to you when I can after everything. Have a good day, One."

"You too, Chris."

Little did she know that that would be the last time she would ever speak with him, because that evening, she received news of an attack at the Daystrom Conference Room, Chris being one of the casualties. It shocked her crew, most of them having had him as their Captain, but it affected her more than she showed. When she returned to her quarters, for the better part of a week, she couldn't help but stare at the list of fatalities, at the official portrait that had been taken after his promotion next to his name. How could he be dead? She had just spoken with him. She closely followed the news surrounding the attack, calling in some favors when the details were not as clear as she would like. She still wished up to now, months after the whole debacle, that Marcus was burning in the lowest depths of hell for his treachery.

Finally, she approached The Embarcadero, the sight of a fidgeting James Kirk ahead of her. As soon as he noticed her, he straightened to attention and snapped out a perfect salute. As she returned it, she was glad she had chosen to wear her dress uniform again, as she couldn't imagine how awkward this scene would have looked to passers-by had she been wearing civilian clothing. Crisply returning the salute, she said, "At ease. We are of equal rank, Captain Kirk, you know you do not have to salute me."

"Yeah, I-I know, but you, you're a legend, ma'am, capital L, and it just wouldn't feel right not to," he grinned, reminding her so much of Chris, she could almost believe that he really was James' father.

"Well, I could say the same of you, Captain Kirk."

"Please, call me Jim, or James, if you prefer, ma'am."

"Very well, James, then you must call me Number One, or One."

"Yes, ma'-Number One."

"Shall we?"

"Of course," he said, sweeping his arm towards the doors. a short transporter ride later, they were outside the Pike family ranch. The house was done in the Spanish style of Old Earth, and it was sprawling. She smiled fondly as they approached the thick mahogany door and James turned the old-fashioned key in the lock. Pikes were old-fashioned, she remembered Chris saying once.

The interior of the house was warmly decorated, books lying on the coffee table, waiting to be taken up again. Pictures covered the sideboards flanking the stone fireplace, of a much younger Chris and his parents, Chris and herself, Chris, Philip, Caitlin, and herself, a couple of Chris and Commander Spock, and quite a few of Chris and James. She heard a sniffle come from the young man once he caught sight of those particular photos. "How about we, uh, get you your inheritance, Number One?"

She knew a deflection when she saw one, but let him lead the way through the the house, towards the bedrooms. She had never been through this particular part of his house, despite what some cruel gossip liked to spread, and so, didn't know what room was Chris'. They passed a few guest bedrooms, and even what had to have been his study. Finally, they arrived at the master bedroom. Number One hid her shaking breath as she stepped through the threshold. "I'll leave you to it, I suppose, Number One," he murmured.

After her nod, he walked back down the hall. She waited until his footsteps were not quite so loud before she moved further into the room. She could almost feel Chris' presence here. Between the reading glasses on the nightstand, atop a rare paper copy of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, the picture frame behind it holding pictures of him and James, as well as him and herself, and the starchart hanging above the carved bed, it was almost painful. She absently ran her hand over the handmade quilt at the foot of the bed, and by some impulse, slid the closet door open.

The lingering scent of his cologne nearly bowled her over, and she gripped the closet door tighter. Memories washed over her of walks and talks, as he put it, late night paperwork sessions, lunches in the Yorktown's ready room, comforting embraces after an away mission gone wrong, and there had been quite a few of those. She shut her eyes, and turned away, moving to his dresser. The top rightmost drawer. She hesitated, hand hovering over the knob, before she gathered herself, and slid the drawer open. It was empty, save for an envelope which bore her name, and the words, "Open me first" in his spidery handwriting. She lifted the envelope and was arrested by the sight of two black velvet boxes below the paper. Her heart was beating fast, too fast. Despite her shock, she braced herself, determined to obey her Captain's last request and not jump to any conclusions. She removed the sheet of paper and read his last words to her.

"Dear Number One,

If you're reading this, then I must be dead. I'm so sorry I left you behind. You were one of the best people I ever had the privilege to meet, and I hope you're doing alright, after hearing that I'm gone. I also hope you won't mind if I speak candidly about something I've wanted to get off my chest for a while.

Before I met you, I was content to be alone, even though my family was constantly hounding me to find someone. I thought, no, I don't need anybody, and anyway, who'd be willing to marry a Starfleet lifer like me, even though my dad was one of those too. Then there was you, and you shattered my worldview. All at once, I was fascinated by you, as Spock would say, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get you out of my head. But so many things were in the way. You were an up-and-coming female officer and I knew that what you didn't need was any accusation of you sleeping your way to the top, and then you were going to become Captain of the _Yorktown_, and I didn't want you to think that you had to come with me, and give the old girl to Saru while the _Enterprise_ was being built, putting everything on hold, and then the _Narada_ happened. I was confined to a wheelchair and had Admiral's stripes slapped onto my shoulders. You definitely didn't deserve to be stuck dirtside with a disabled man past his prime. Your career was going to take you places I wouldn't be able to go. I didn't want you to have to choose. So I resigned myself to being alone, for the first time in years.

And yet, the selfish part of me couldn't help but dream, whenever you'd spend a day or two of shore leave with me, here, that maybe, I had a chance. That if I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me, you'd say yes. I almost asked, really, when you last visited me, before you shipped out. I was actually standing and walking on my own with the cane, and I was cooking dinner. I still remember what I cooked that night. Chilli con carne, just the way you liked it, with way too much hot sauce for anyone's good. I held the spoon out for you to taste it, and the smile on your face, damn, One. Your smile lit up the room, and I would have knelt down right there and then, bad legs and all, and _begged_ you to marry me. But all my reasons for why I shouldn't, came flooding back into my mind, and I lost my nerve.

I wanted you to have everything I wouldn't be able to have after my injury. You were the one now, who had to carry the hopes and dreams for the both of us into the black. That, and your friendship would have to be enough for me.

That being said, I want you to have some things. You can open the boxes now."

Tears were running down her cheeks as she rushed to take the boxes from the drawer. The first held a white gold band that had three diamonds set in it. Breath rushed out of her at the sight. The other box held a fleet ring, which was odd, because James inherited Chris'. The letter went on,

"The fleet ring was my father Joshua's, and the other was my great-great-grandmother Ellen's engagement ring. You are the only person I would ever have given both to.

Now, I hope you don't mind me saying to you what I very much wish I had when I was alive. I love you, One. You have my heart, and always will. Until we meet again.

Chris."

"Oh, you idiot. I would have said yes had you asked. Christopher Pike, you stupid self-sacrificing idiot. I would have said yes," she breathed, wiping at her tears. Carefully, she took the band of white gold and slipped it onto her left ring finger. It fit perfectly, which only made her heart break more. She then took the chain holding her fleet ident tags, and slipped the fleet ring onto its length.

"I love you too, Chris, and oh, how I would have loved you."

Here, an odd breeze swept through the room, though all the house's windows were shut. She smiled, knowing in her heart that that was his way of saying goodbye.

"Goodbye, Chris. Until we meet again," she whispered.

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***SOBS***


	3. What He Gave Jim

**Disclaimer: Still don't own this.**

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It was an overcast day in San Francisco, with little bits of the sun peeking through gaps in the clouds, a light breeze rustling the trees, which found Jim Kirk outside The Embarcadero waiting for the Starfleet Legend that was Captain Una of the USS Yorktown. Jim was early, he knew, but it just didn't seem right to show up after someone like her. It felt as bad as keeping someone like Jonathan Archer or Philippa Georgiou or Robert April or Pike waiting. You just didn't do that. He fidgeted with his leather jacket, restlessly tugging the zipper up and down repeatedly. This would be the first time he would lay eyes on Pike's, now his, house. He was glad to now have a place to get away from the pressures of his name and rank, but wished that it hadn't come at so high a price. The Kirk farm in Riverside was home, yes, but it also had some… unpleasant memories that came with it, and his place in San Francisco was now comfortably settled into, but it was a bit too close to everything Starfleet.

As soon as Captain Una came into view across from him, Jim instinctually snapped to attention and crisply saluted. She returned it and said, "At Ease. We are of equal rank, Captain Kirk, you know you do not have to salute me."

Nervously, he replied, grinning, "Yeah, I-I know, but you, you're a legend, ma'am, capital L, and it just wouldn't feel right not to."

"Well, I could say the same of you, Captain Kirk."

"Please, call me Jim, or James, if you prefer, ma'am."

"Very well, James, then you must call me Number One, or One."

"Yes, ma'-Number One."

"Shall we?"

"Of course," he said, sweeping his arm towards the doors. A short transporter ride later, they were outside the Pike family ranch. The house was done in the Spanish style of Old Earth, and it was sprawling, much bigger than the Kirk homestead. Jim turned the key in the lock, and the two of them walked in.

The interior of the house was very homey, decorated in warm colors and earth tones, books lying on the coffee table, numerous old-fashioned pictures covering the sideboards flanking the stone fireplace, of a much younger Pike and what had to be his parents, Pike and Number One, Pike and Number One with two people he didn't know, a couple of Pike and Spock, and quite a few of Pike and himself. Sudden moisture pricked at his eyes. He inhaled sharply, trying and failing to hide his sniffle. "How about we, uh, get you your inheritance, Number One?"

He could tell she didn't buy his light tone for one second, as they walked through the house, searching for the master bedroom. They found a lot of guest rooms and his study, until they finally got to the room they had been looking for. As she stepped through the threshold of the room, Jim murmured, "I'll leave you to it, I suppose, Number One."

After her nod, he walked back down the hall. He found himself back in the living room, and he took in the room, this time in more detail. He noticed the large gramophone and boxes of vinyl records next to the holoscreen, and noted the Old Earth literature lying on the coffee table — some Shakespeare, a bit of Robert Louis Stevenson, and the first two volumes of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings.

The dining room was between the living room and the kitchen and the table looked to be several decades old, bearing multiple carvings of names in the wood. Near the end was the freshest one, to Jim's eyes. It was in a childish hand, but he could see the beginnings of Pike's familiar handwriting. It said, "Chris Pike — 2205". It made him smile. Jim moved to the kitchen and noticed the well-worn pots and pans, the scratched cooking utensils, the fully stocked spice rack. A nearly empty bottle of hot sauce.

Turning, he saw, through the back door, a ways from the house, was a small stable and paddock. Striding into the stable, he took note of the maintenance droid in the corner, by the hay, the nearby rack bearing the saddle and bridle of the magnificent bay gelding before him. He had an intelligent look in his eyes, and he tilted his head in a way he had thought only Spock was capable of. "Hey, boy. You must be Tango Jr. You're a handsome boy, aren't you? I'm Jim."

Jim had been around a couple of horses before, in Iowa, but his family's farm was more of a produce farm. They had a few chickens and cows, but no horses. So, carefully, Jim extended his hand to Tango Jr., letting him smell him. After a charged second, Tango Jr. nuzzled Jim's hand, making him sigh in relief. Jim gently ran his hand up and down the horse's head. After a while, Tango Jr. whickered, nudging Jim in the shoulder.

"Hey now, boy, what's wrong?"

Tango Jr. snorted, a mournful look in his eyes.

"Ah. You're really a smart one, aren't you? You miss Chris, don't you? Yeah, you do. I miss him too. He was like my dad, you know? I'm sure you feel the same. Well, he's not here with us anymore, but he asked me to take care of you. How'd you like that?"

He just stared at Jim for a few seconds, before he snorted again, but in a different way.

"I'm glad," Jim smiled.

At this, Tango Jr. tossed his head towards the saddle and bridle.

"You want to go out?"

Tango Jr. neighed, eagerly dragging his front right hoof through the ground.

"Okay, okay! Hold your horses!"

Tango Jr. gave Jim a very unimpressed look at the joke which only made him laugh more. After some fiddling with the foreign bits of leather, he finally got Tango Jr. tacked up, although not fast enough for the horse's liking. "Give me a break, Tango, I'm not Chris, I haven't done this before."

Jim gently led Tango Jr. out to the paddock, walking him for a bit, before mustering the courage to try riding around the open space. Tango Jr. patiently stood still while Jim tried to figure out how to get up onto the saddle. After a couple of failed attempts, he swore the snorts coming from the great bay was the horse equivalent of laughter.

"Seriously?" Jim muttered, as he tried yet again. Finally, he managed to swing himself into the saddle, both feet firmly on the stirrups. "Ok, let's take it easy. Again, not Chris, so let's keep it to a walk, shall we?"

Slowly, Tango Jr. began to walk around the paddock. It was a different experience for Jim. Kind of like his motorcycle, but… more organic. Eventually, Jim became more confident, letting Tango Jr. have more rein, until he was actually cantering. Jim let out a whoop of excitement, but before he knew it, he lost his balance and in a flash was on the dusty ground.

Tango Jr. trotted over to him, nickering concernedly at Jim's face. "Yeah, boy. I'm okay. Just a fall. Don't worry, I've had worse. Much worse." Jim picked himself up, and softly patted Tango Jr.'s neck. "How about you have a run, boy, without me? Work off some of your energy? I promise I'll learn to properly ride you soon." Jim slipped the bridle off, and stood back, until he was leaning against the paddock's fencing, bridle loosely gripped in his hand, while Tango Jr. was running in circles before him.

Eventually, Jim heard Number One's soft alto call out to him. "James! I see you found Tango Jr."

"Yeah. He's beautiful, isn't he?"

"Quite."

They watched Tango Jr. in silence, Jim soon noting the ring glinting on her left hand which he knew hadn't been there at the beginning of the day, and the slight redness lingering around her eyes. Understanding dawned on him, but he didn't say anything, somehow knowing that she wouldn't want anyone to make a big deal of it, especially not today. So he continued watching Tango Jr., as she did.

In this manner, Christopher Pike's family, both chosen, and wished-for, mourned his loss.


	4. Coda

**Disclaimer: Insert Witty Disclaimer Here. Author Is Too Tired To Think.**

**Set just after Pike receives the comm in the bar in ST:ID **

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The kid was filled with doubts right now, and the look Jim had sent him as they sat there on the barstools, his hand on the younger man's shoulder in fatherly reassurance, it just about killed him. He was in his office, putting on his spare dress grays which he kept in his office for just this reason, when a strange feeling came over him, like someone was walking on his grave, as his great-grandmother would say. He didn't know what possessed him, but he quickly wrote a short note for Jim in case anything happened to him over the next few days. He could always ask for it back from his lawyer anyway, if nothing happened. Envelope sent off, he rushed to meet Jim for the emergency meeting in Daystrom.

The End


End file.
